Carried and Sent
by thewordiscool
Summary: A tale about the creation of the ruby slippers


"Honestly, I don't know what we're going to do with this stupid thing once we get it up the hill…" Carried panted, struggling with the rope that scraped against her pale hands.

"You'll find out soon enough," came the infuriating reply from Sent, who was doing most of the actual hoisting. The large sled didn't actually weight that much, but made up for it by being grotesquely large. "There," Sent grinned, plopping his end of the wooden contraption onto the ground with a satisfied grunt. Carried fell onto the ground rather dramatically and marveled at this unique perspective of the grass that waved in the wind so merrily. Sent carefully sat beside her, watching her pick at the emerald blades in her distraction. "Did our journey tire you?" he asked anxiously, "I'm ever so sorry if it did!" "No no. I've never seen anything like this field before. That's all it is. I think I'm in a sort of daze." Carried did speak the truth, for many had never seen anything like this field before - the grass was an unnaturally saturated green, waving underneath a sky of such brilliance that it was impossible to believe it could be seen from anywhere else. They were perched on top of a rather large hill, overlooking a sort of bowl-shaped dip in the field, but Carried had been so overwhelmed that she had not taken the time to peer over the edge. She rolled onto her stomach and peered around the final lump of hill, only to behold an even more breathtaking sight. The bowl was completely carpeted in red poppies, all dancing merrily as the grass did above. She gasped at the ruby-colored flowers, for the most beautiful flowers she held beheld were the dim yellow marigolds that grew sparsely in her mother's window box. "Do you like it?" Sent asked anxiously. "I hoped you would. This place reminded me of you." Carried was in such a stupor that she merely replied with a terribly pleased head-nod, grasping her shimmering silver shoes in both hands. "Here." Sent gently helped her onto the sled, clambering onto the frame behind her. The two were quite a pair to behold, engulfed, almost, by the wooden sides of the sled (for it was quite a modern model), their slender frames only occupying a fraction of the roomy interior. Sent's hair swooshed gently as he extended his foot and began to push off of the grass. Carried, whose hair was tightly knotted behind her, snapped out of her daze long enough to question the logistics of Sent's feat. "We can't sled on grass-" but her doubts were cut short as Sent gave a defining stroke of the foot, tipping the sled over the hill and causing them to race towards the poppies, gliding over the grass as if it were ice. The cool wind that blew about them smelled of something wonderful, though neither could identify the scent (but both suspected that it came from the poppies). As the sled reached the bottom of the hill and began to race through the poppies, Carried became overwhelmed by the urge to touch the beautifully formed foliage. Daring to release her fierce grip on the front of the sled, she reached a slender hand towards the blur of red. "Don't!" Sent cried, but it was too late. Sent jumped out of the racing sled, hoping desperately that this wouldn't hurt as much as he expected. During his flight, Sent saw something rather amazing - Carried lying on top of the poppies, quite well and at peace with herself. What amazed him, though, was the fact that she was lying _on top_ of the poppies - they had not bent under her limited weight or even shed a petal. Sent realized this very vaguely, however, for at that moment he himself landed on the ground with a great oomph. He had the peculiar luck of landing just outside the boundary of the jewel-like flowers, and found the soft-looking grass much harder underneath than he had hoped. His fear for his friend was much greater than his concern for his own physical health (which, at the moment, was a good thing). "Carried!" he cried over the field and saw her stir from her flowery nest. "Sent? What happened?" she called back. "Are you alright?" Sent returned, ignoring Carried's rather unnecessary question. Before he had a chance to rush through the field, he found Carried at his side, panting rather unbecomingly. "That was quite odd," she grinned ironically. "I quite enjoyed it." "Are you alright?" Sent repeated. "Yes, yes. Although, I can't seem to find my shoes…" she trailed off as she glanced at her bare legs, which were stained a stunning shade of red. "Oh!" she cried, rubbing her skin furiously with her hands. "One moment…" Sent mumbled as he glimpsed the back of her dress. He gently grasped her arm and spun her around, only to discover her entire backside had been stained the same brilliant crimson. "Am I completely red?" she laughed. "Never fear - I do believe it will come off with a good soaping." "I suppose you are right…" he laughed reluctantly. "Do you think your shoes flew off into the field?" Sent made the rather chivalrous gesture of heading into the field, but Carried pulled him back. "I will get them - there is no need for two of us to be dyed today." And, with that jovial attitude, she skipped into the flower forest, returning shortly with a glittering pair of red shoes. "I do believe my shoes have tasted the dye as well!" She was still giggling, which both surprised and pleased Sent. Carried did not often smile. "I'm ever so sorry. This was all my idea - " he began, but Carried raised a reddened hand. "Don't apologize! I now have a wonderful souvenir from our great adventure…or the beginning of it, anyway." And, with that, Carried grasped Sent's still pale hand and romped through the grass in search of their sled. Sent liked holding Carried's hand.


End file.
